


for just another day

by sieges



Series: a thesis on mimicry / the super and the invisible [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, False Memories, Gen, High School, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25829701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sieges/pseuds/sieges
Summary: Pictures that tell of thousands of things and also nothing at all.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu
Series: a thesis on mimicry / the super and the invisible [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823170
Comments: 56
Kudos: 162





	for just another day

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the conceptsbot's prompt: i want you to take a picture of peaches at dawn.

The first thing Atsumu says when he receives the camera is, “Damn, I bet this is what people use to photograph all the shit in yer porn mags.”

“First of all, _don’t_ use it for that.” Osamu snaps. “And secondly, I ain’t the one buried deep within nude pics of women. That’s _you_.”

“Then why’d Ma catch ‘em on yer bed?”

“‘Cause ya planted ‘em there!”

Osamu looks like he’s about to strangle Atsumu, but upon catching sight of the camera he lent his brother, he stops. Atsumu grins, noticing this. “Can’t believe this is what’s gonna get ya to be nice to me. How much do ya love this baby anyway?”

“Clearly not enough if I’m lendin’ it to ya,” Osamu huffs. “You better remember the rules I gave ya ‘bout this.”

“Yeah, yeah. Wear the strap at all times. Keep it turned off if I ain’t using it. Don’t waste the film. Only take three pictures. Don’t look through yer gallery.” Atsumu waves a hand. “I bet ya don’t want me to see it ‘cause yer hidin’ somethin’. I bet it’s porn. You can’t hide this shit from me, ya horny pig.”

“It’s not that,” Osamu defends, but Atsumu doesn’t believe him. There are only a handful of things Osamu would actively insist Atsumu _not_ know about, which usually results in the opposite effect, but it’s rare for him to be _this_ conscious. It can’t be anything but porn, Atsumu thinks. Or maybe it’s really, _really_ raunchy porn that Osamu just doesn’t want him to see because he wants all the fun to himself. “I’ll take my camera back.”

Atsumu ignores him. “Yer stingy. The hell am I gonna do with just three shots?”

“Yer art homework just says to take a picture of a damn _fruit_. How many shots do ya need for that?”

“A lot! You never know!”

“Shaddap. You’ll wake mom and dad and ya still need to position it against the sky before sunrise,” Osamu berates him. “And I wanna go back to sleep. Can’t believe I got up this early on a Saturday to help ya with yer crap.”

“Then go back to sleep,” Atsumu says. “I’m good here. I wanna get this over with too.”

Osamu gives him a dubious look before reluctantly saying, “Yeah. Yeah, alright.”

“The peach’s downstairs, right?”

“Yup.” Osamu’s already making his way back up the ladder of their double deck. “I swear, ‘Tsumu, if I see so much as a damn smudge on my lens, I’ll poison all yer energy drinks _and_ convince Rin to post all his blackmail ‘bout ya on social media.”

“Yer a terrible brother.” 

“Thanks. I took notes from you.” It’s the last thing Osamu says before he pulls the blanket over him. Atsumu waits a few minutes before hastily half-climbing up the ladder to see if Osamu really _is_ asleep. He’s always envied the fact that Osamu’s bed looks properly made every single time even though Atsumu swears Osamu’s never done anything to keep it neat while his own bottom bunk is a complete hurricane. 

When Atsumu looks, the blanket’s been pulled up all the way to Osamu’s neck, so only his face is seen. He’s already deep asleep. Atsumu raises the camera and snaps a picture, careful to make sure that the flash isn’t turned on. Osamu doesn’t even stir. Gleeful, Atsumu gets down and leaves to do his art homework. 

Though Atsumu follows Osamu’s three-shot limit by taking a lazy snap of the peach and another clumsy one of the sunset visible past their see-through sliding doors that lead to the backyard, he spends the next half hour scrolling through Osamu’s gallery through viewing them on his laptop. They’re mostly pictures of food, the team, and lastly, Atsumu himself and his parents. 

They’re candids and Atsumu can recall each memory tied to the photos perfectly. He doesn’t remember ever seeing Osamu fish out something as bulky as a camera to snap a picture in those moments, but then again, Osamu always did like hovering around during social gathering, blending in the background and never surrounding himself with a terribly large crowd. The only time he’d stick close by to anyone would be Atsumu, like he trusts him to be the one to take care of him even Osamu is supposed to be the older one. 

Atsumu saves the picture of Osamu’s stupid sleeping face into his desktop, intending to use it as leverage against his brother when he’ll one day need it. 

* * *

Despite Osamu insisting that Atsumu using his camera was a one-time use only, Atsumu still manages to find it in his hands every one in a while without anything more than two complaints and a threat from Osamu. 

Atsumu dares Osamu to ask one of their schoolmates sitting on the bench to go get her number, and then hides behind the bush to take photos of Osamu blushing his way through a conversation with her even though she barely spares him a second glance. Gin catches him while he’s walking past and asks why the hell is he stalking a poor girl neither of them know, and Atsumu retorts that he’s doing it for Osamu, caring less about the girl. Gin just gives him a funny look but inevitably lets it go. 

On the way home, Osamu steps on catnip and ends up being unable to move because cats are constantly surrounding him. Atsumu takes a picture of that too, Osamu flashing him the middle finger. 

During Suna’s birthday party, Atsumu turns the lens towards him to take a bad selfie of him smearing Suna’s cake over Osamu’s nose. His hand is blurry in the image since he’d been waving it, the icing still stuck to his fingertips as if they’ve never been anywhere else. Osamu is frowning beside him, almost going cross-eyed just to look at his nose. The cake is still visible even though their shoulders mostly block it from view. In the background are the small figures of the rest of the Inarizaki team, trying to fit into the picture. 

It’s the few among a plethora that Atsumu has accumulated over the year ever since that day he took the picture of the peaches. He meticulously prints all the photos he’s taken and pastes them on the wall. Osamu bitches about the fact that he’s in a lot of them until he realizes that he doesn’t look as bad as he thought. 

“Least I know lookin’ into the mirror every mornin’ to try and fix myself isn’t all for nothin’,” Osamu says. “If you see all the pics, you’ll realize that God blessed me with the better genes.”

Atsumu gives him a dirty look. “We look the same, stupid.”

Osamu ignores him. “Y’know, these things are gonna last forever,” he says as the two of them stare at the photo wall. “The pictures, I mean.”

“Unless we take ‘em down,” Atsumu replies. “For newer stuff. This wall can’t fit everythin’.”

“Will ya take ‘em down?” 

Atsumu shrugs. “‘Course I will. For new memories.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“You should lessen the amount of me in here then.”

Osamu’s tone is strange. “Aw. Shy, aren’t ya?”

“Fuck off.” Osamu rolls his eyes. “Yer the one that said it. Yer gonna make new memories and replace the old ones.”

“The hell does that have to do with anythin’?”

Osamu gives him a long look before saying, “Nothing.”

“Fuck you. Don’t gimme that crap.”

But Osamu isn’t listening anymore. “Whatever. It’ll happen at some point.”

Atsumu doesn’t understand what the hell Osamu is talking about. But he doesn’t have time to ask, because their mother swings the door open and says that Atsumu needs to help her prepare the table for dinner. Atsumu and Osamu usually take turns, but lately he’s been the one doing everything. He’d complain about it, but the calendar says it’s his turn anyway, so he saves it for later. 

“That’s a nice photo wall ya set up,” She tells him. 

“Better than ‘Samu’s shitty KPOP posters, sure,” Atsumu agrees. 

She nods slowly before taking one last glance at the direction of the photo wall. Osamu still stands right in front of it. Their mother looks away and walks back down, and Atsumu doesn’t know why the look on her face is melancholic. When he asks, she brushes it off. 

Atsumu eventually forgets about it over dinner. 

* * *

The Inarizaki VBC spends a weekend in the beach, an impromptu trip offered by Akagi because he finally got his driver’s license. The last time Atsumu had been to a beach was when he and Osamu tried running away while they were on vacation with their parents because they were mad about how they wouldn’t let them dig holes to find crabs. They were twelve. 

It’s much more fun with friends, Atsumu learns. He convinces Kosaku and Riseki to go crab digging with him and then they try putting them on Ojiro and Omimi’s stomachs while they nap under the umbrella they put up. Kita lathers sunscreen on each of the members before sending them off to do whatever they want. Suna manages to procure them cocktails. Gin and Akagi say it’s because he lied about his age and flirted with the employee. The only reason Kita lets them get away with it is because he likes cocktails too. 

They can’t venture far into the ocean, so they settle by the shallow areas and try to walk through the waves, searching for seashells to take home as souvenirs. At some point, Suna scoops up a handful of sand and dunks it over Gin’s head. Gin tackles Suna into the water and the rest of them try pulling them apart only to get dragged further into their play fight. 

Atsumu watches from a distance as the sun starts to set, the day coming to an end quicker than anticipated. By his side, Osamu drinks from his cocktail since Suna hadn’t brought enough for everyone. Everyone’s slippers are discarded right by the shore and are arranged in a neat row, so their feet remain bare against the course sand. They aren’t unsettled by the discomfort, enjoying their time instead. The scenery is perfect. 

“Wish I brought a camera,” Atsumu says. “‘S a nice moment.”

“Take a mental one then,” Osamu replies. 

Atsumu stretches out his thumb and pointer finger with his hands, turning his left so that a rectangle is formed. He lifts his arms until he reaches eye-level, and everyone neatly fits into the makeshift frame. Akagi spots what he’s doing from afar and yells, “The hell are ya doin’?”

“Mental snapshot!” Atsumu yells back. Then, “‘Samu, you should get in the frame.”

“Hm.” Atsumu turns to Osamu. “I’d rather not.”

When Atsumu blinks, Osamu isn’t there by his side. He turns back and mentally recreates the shutter sound of a camera, taking a picture of his team. He gazes down at the cocktail. It’s full to the brim.

Later, their slippers get caught by the water and the team ends up having to go look for them. Because Kita isn’t one of them, he sits down beside Atsumu, who is finishing the rest of the drink. 

“Photo takin’ becomin’ a new hobby of yers?” Kita inquires. 

Atsumu nods absentmindedly. “It’s kinda cool when ya realize that ya can make memories into tangible things like a picture, and I’ve been findin’ lotsa interestin’ things to take. I even got a photo wall up in the bedroom.” 

“I remember ya used to argue ‘bout it with Osamu, never wantin’ to look back on stuff,” says Kita. “He would’ve loved the photo wall.”

The waves make a particularly loud crash against the rocks and drag some sand with them when they pull back. Atsumu is quiet for a few moments. “This is the first time someone’s mentioned ‘Samu around me.” 

Kita looks like he’s thinking carefully of the next words to say. “Everyone’s been tip-toein’ 'round it carefully with ya, y’know. It seemed like ya were still actin’ like Osamu’s still here.”

“Oh.” Atsumu curls his toes and restrains himself from pulling his knees closer to his chest. When he and Oasamu tried running away as kids, they talked about getting swept by a strong tide just to be able to disappear without leaving a trace, the water washing away all their footprints and evidence of their existence. “No. ‘M not. He’s been gone for a year, after all.” 

When Atsumu returns home in the late afternoon, he immediately makes his way towards his room and stands in front of the photo wall. It looks the same as it’s always been, but Atsumu is realizing now how painstakingly plain they all appear now. The top bunk of the bed, properly made and untouched. A schoolmate of his sits on the bench, enjoying her time alone. A glaring of cats drawn in by the smell of catnip on the street. A selfie of the Inarizaki team on Suna’s birthday, the cake serving as the main focus of the photo. Suna got mad at him back then, for sticking his hand in the cake to get icing all over his palm and fingertips for no good reason. 

_You should lessen the amount of me in here then_ , Osamu said, which Atsumu had found stupid, because Osamu has never been in any of them. Atsumu grabs the camera and scolls through the gallery. The entire year’s collection of photos in the drive have all been taken by him. The last photo Osamu took was of the sunset, and right below the horizon was their team, walking home together after a tiring day of practice. Everyone fits in the frame. It makes Atsumu think of his own mental snapshot at the beach. 

Atsumu takes three of the pictures off the wall. Osamu says, “Replacin’ ‘em already? It ain’t even full yet.”

“”M takin’ ‘em down,” mutters Atsumu. 

“Why?”

“There’s no point in makin’ new memories if yer never gonna be in any of ‘em.”

Atsumu doesn’t look at him. Osamu sighs. “Photos ain’t for new memories, y’know. They’re for lookin’ back at the old ones.” Atsumu stays silent. “Keep ‘em up. I know what yer gonna do with ‘em, and I don’t want ya to scatter ‘em all over my grave. It ain’t a trash can.”

Atsumu scowls. “Screw off. New memories become old ones anyway. And it’s not like I can even look back at the old shit ‘cause yer never in ‘em.”

“Yer stupid if ya think I can be immortalized in somethin’ as small as a picture.” Osamu points out. “Also, what happened to all yer crap ‘bout never lookin’ back and who needs memories?”

“Fuck you,” Atsumu snaps. “ _Fuck you,_ ‘cause that was before ya died, ‘Samu. That was before I realized that I didn’t look at ya hard enough back when ya were alive to make sure I’d never forget.”

“So yer forgettin me.” Osamu’s voice is so infuriatingly even, like he’s listing down math equations or telling him the time. Atsumu looks away. He thinks of the beach and the way Osamu flickered out. “‘S fine. Remember what I said? It’ll happen at some point. It’s been a year.”

 _A year isn’t that long,_ Atsumu wants to say. “I don’t want it to.”

Osamu lets out a sharp exhale. “If ya forget me, then you could just remember me all over again.”

“How?”

“By lookin’ at yerself in the mirror,” Osamu says, matter of fact. It’s such a straightforward statement. Atsumu can’t help but laugh because he makes it sound so easy that it’s stupid. Despite their identical appearances, Atsumu could never look at a mirror and see anything but his own reflection. Osamu was someone Atsumu recognized not by face, but by memory. It's because that's all of him that's left, even if he realizes now that they've always been scarce enough to slip from his grasp. 

Osamu grins. “Stop worryin’ and put those photos back. You haven’t made any new memories yet.” Osamu picks up a photo. A peach against the light of dawn. “This one could use a replacement though. Yer lighting sucks.”

“The sun just woke up. ‘Course it wasn’t gonna be the perfect shot.”

“Whatever.” Osamu tosses it to the side carelessly and grabs the camera, handing it to Atsumu. “You can start the new memories with that. Sunset’s almost happenin’.”

“Fine,” Atsumu says, standing up. He looks at the photo wall. _They’re gonna be here forever._ Osamu had said. Atsumu turns to his brother who is already walking out the room. Atsumu thinks, _I wish he’d be here forever,_ even though he knows Osamu won’t, even though he knows that he’s never been here in the first place. 

Atsumu takes a photo. Osamu, hearing the shutter sound, turns back to him. “The fuck are ya doin’?”

He checks the photo. It’s a plain picture of his bedroom door, swung open. Still, he can also see the broadness of his brother’s back, the choppy way his hair has grown. “Tryna make new memories.”

Osamu snorts. “Don’t use up the film. Only take three pictures.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Atsumu brushes him off. “C’mon, let’s get it over with.”

He takes a photo of the fresh peaches sitting on the table over the sunset view. When the day finally turns to night and Atsumu turns his head, Osamu isn’t there anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> tbh i didnt expect the story to turn out like this; i just went with the prompt and started to write without thinking. i'd been listening to the soundtrack of the musical next to normal though, and if you know the story, then you'd probably figure out the connection and why this fic went down this particular road.
> 
> just wanted to do a little writing practice since i felt like i went rusty bc of university. this was my attempt at writing atsumu pov (i still need to practice) + make something with a word count that's less than 3k, hence the lack of context and information (also bc i rlly didnt think that far and didnt want to bc then it would get longer). 
> 
> hopefully ill be able to post something else by this month (keyword: hopefully), and i'll come back to editing this when i'm less busy. i'm at @inarizakicks on twitter! lastly, thank you so much to anyone who took the time to read <3


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